


Secrets

by Lazulia



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: From the author formerly known as Delphicoracle-Cat, M/M, May/December Relationship, Mpreg, Some Sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-01 15:01:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17869454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazulia/pseuds/Lazulia
Summary: Mistoffelees was not a kitten. Despite this, Skimbleshanks knew that falling in love with him wasn't going to lead to an easy romance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A rare Misto/Skimble romp, from my 2012 archive.

With a weary sigh, Skimbleshanks shuffled about on the railway platform, debating whether or not to hop on the next Midnight Mail. It would be so much easier to leave for another few days, but then again, this was the longest he'd ever spent away from the junkyard, long enough for summer to have faded and brought the first chill of autumn. Despite everything, despite the pain and sadness that he'd left behind, he missed his second home. Well, scratch that: he didn't miss the place itself, but he missed one very important thing that he'd had to leave behind.

The Midnight Mail gave a shrill whistle and began to chug along the tracks; too late now, Skimble mused. To the junkyard it was. Leaping off the platform, he avoided the legs and curious hands of the passing humans and began the trek towards the yard.

Normally, he would have balked at the thought of staying away from the junkyard for so long, but lately he'd managed to find trips and travels to go on that took him away from London for days at a time, looking for any excuse to extend his time away.

By the time the junkyard was in sight, a heaviness began to settle in Skimble's chest. By the time he crossed the entrance beneath the loose wooden planks, the heaviness turned into full-blown anxiety, leaving him scared of the reactions.

He ran into Alonzo first, who had come out to investigate the new arrival into the junkyard. When he saw that it was Skimble, he relaxed, but only barely.

"Skimbleshanks," the patched tom coolly said. "You have good timing."

Skimble frowned. He was weary from the long trips and nervous about being back in the junkyard after so long, and Alonzo wasn't making sense. "What are you talking about?"

Alonzo shrugged. "You'll see."

The icy welcome was hardly a surprise. Unwilling to argue or discuss any further, Skimble began heading to his den, glancing furtively around to make sure he wasn't about to run into any more cats. He couldn't avoid Demeter, who started when she spotted him and stared at him in surprise.

"Skimble! It's… been a while."

"I felt it good to stay away for a bit of time," Skimble said. "I imagine you understand why."

Demeter continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, her expression unreadable. "I suppose you'll be going to see Misto."

At the mention of the young tux's name, Skimble's anxiety bubbled again. "I don't think that would be wise. I was about to get myself a cup of tea and get some sleep. So if you'll pardon me-"

He began to edge past the queen, only to have her firmly grasp his arm. "Skimble—I really think you should go see him."

"You were all singing a very different tune not so long ago, weren't you?" Skimble said, gently prying his arm free. "I'll consider it. Now good night."

He continued in the direction of his den, a hollowed-out desk that was not very big or very comfortable, but was good enough to serve as a home. He had previously shared a den with Jenny, but after the relationship soured, he let her keep the spacious den and sought out his own. It was a small home, but he made it as comfortable as could be, though he would have preferred something nicer for himself and Mistoffelees.

Skimble shook his head. Why was he still thinking like that? It didn't matter anymore.

He thought of the small tom and hesitated as he reached his desk den. Should he double back to see Mistoffelees, if only to say hello? Demeter had seemed oddly insistent. He'd left the young tom sad, but not devastated, so why was it so vital that he go see him now?

Tomorrow, he resolved. Maybe. Right now, he was tired, and he couldn't imagine Mistoffelees needing his attention right at this moment. And it wouldn't be proper anyway, considering…

He stood hesitating for a few seconds, one hand poised on the entrance to his den, and doubled back with a sigh.

Damn it, Skimble old boy. You never could let anything go, could you?

There was no need to be surreptitious now, since all the Jellicles would know soon enough that he'd returned from his self-imposed exile. It wouldn't look proper for his first order of business to be sneaking off to see Mistoffelees, but…

He remembered Mistoffelees' den, with the narrow pipe serving as its entrance. Quietly, Skimble crawled inside, part of him hoping that Mistoffelees would be asleep, leaving him to avoid a potentially awkward conversation until morning. He did want to at least see the small tom, smell him, make sure he was all right. The time away had done exactly nothing to quell his feelings. Would Mistoffelees feel the same, he wondered?

Mistoffelees was there when Skimble crawled in. He was not asleep, as Skimble had half-hoped; he was sitting up on his blankets, idly picking at the pages of a book. And he was…

… he was…!

Skimble's eyes widened.

"Oh, Misto!" he breathed.

Mistoffelees started at the sound of his former lover's familiar voice. For a few seconds, he blinked in shock, and soon was blinking tears out of his eyes. "Skimble! I-I didn't think… you came back!"

"I did," he said, gathering up the tux in his arms. "And I'm not leaving again. You hear? I'm not leaving you, not now. I only wish you'd told me before I left!"

"I didn't know until after you left…"

"I would have come back to take care of you!"

Mistoffelees gave a trembling shrug, wrapping his arms around the orange tabby. "I'm not a kitten," he whispered. "I can take care of myself."

***

"I'm not a kitten."

Skimble would never forget the first time he heard Mistoffelees utter those words. It was hard to forget, especially with the way they were accompanied by a seductive purr, and a gleam in Mistoffelees' eyes that was anything but kittenish.

They were sitting on a wooden crate on platform number five, watching the passenger trains leave for their daily journey. It'd surprised him to learn that Mistoffelees loved trains, that he loved the hustle and bustle of the station. It made Skimble smile to see the joy in the young tux's face; such a simple pleasure, to watch the trains go by, and yet Skimble hadn't found anyone else in the junkyard who shared this love of his. Sure, Jenny had feigned interest early in their courtship, but it was obvious that her heart wasn't in it. None of the kittens they'd had together had ever wanted to come to the station with him, and watch him leave on the Midnight Mail, or just sit and watch the humans go about their day. Not a single Jellicle had ever been interested.

Except, of course, for Mistoffelees.

He'd never paid all that much attention to the young tux while he was growing up, too concerned with his own rambunctious kittens. He seemed well-liked in the junkyard, popular with the queens, though he'd never seen Mistoffelees involved romantically with any of them. Maybe, Skimble wondered, he was still too young to worry about that sort of thing. Queens, and mating, and starting families could cause as much as pain as they could cause joy, he thought ruefully.

Once his and Jenny's kittens had grown up, the queen seemed to grow distant. She'd all but lost interest in mating, which was something Skimble could have dealt with, but she also seemed to lose interest and patience with anything to do with her mate, preferring instead to sit and crochet and gossip with her friends. Jenny hadn't seemed all that heartbroken when Skimble finally requested to end their union.

It freed him from the burden of an unhappy mate, but it also left him rather lonely. Skimble was nothing if not a sociable cat, one of the main reasons why he'd loved taking on such responsibility on the Midnight Mail. Attention and food and love from the humans were all well and good, but he still craved affection from his fellow Jellicles.

So when Mistoffelees came to him one day and shyly asked if he could come along to visit the train station, Skimble had been surprised, but pleased to have such company.

He'd found a surprisingly enjoyable companion in Mistoffelees, mature yet kittenish at the same time. The tux didn't have the cynical weariness of the older cats, and he certainly knew how to laugh and how to enjoy life, whether it was listening to a funny story of Skimble's or showing off a magic trick for the older cat. It was nice to have a companion who appreciated his sorry jokes and who whole-heartedly listened when he explained how the trains came and went.

It was nice, for a cat like Skimble who was physically affectionate, to have someone like Mistoffelees who casually leaned into him and purred while they sat and watched the trains go by and watched the humans go about their business. Skimble had even skipped one shift on the Midnight Mail in favour of sitting with Mistoffelees.

He had to admit the young tom was easy on the eyes. Skimble often watched him dance back in the junkyard with effortless grace and flexibility, making him smile wistfully for the long-ago limberness of his own youth. As much as his body moved easily, Mistoffelees smiled just as easily, and his cheeriness was contagious. More than once, they'd made each other laugh over some silliness or another, and on more than one occasion, Skimble found himself surprised by thoughts of kissing that smiling mouth.

When Skimble caught himself thinking 'oh, if only he weren't so young…' it was really only because he doubted the young, lovely tom would ever be interested in an old cat like him.

Imagine his surprise on one particular night. Mistoffelees had always been cuddly and affectionate, so Skimble thought nothing of the way the tux would usually lean into him, get comfortable, and purr lightly as they watched the trains roll by. He would often place an arm around Mistoffelees' shoulders and nuzzle him once or twice, enjoying the closeness he'd never really had with his mate or his own friends.

It was only when the purring and cuddling got a little less innocent and a bit more suggestive that night that Skimble began to wonder.

Settling in for an evening of people-watching, Mistoffelees had casually thrown one leg over Skimble's, resting his head on an orange shoulder, claws idly playing with the buttons of his vest. He'd been terribly casual about the motion, but Skimble could swear his purr sounded a little nervous tonight.

Skimble's arm naturally came to rest around the tux's shoulders, as it always did. Tonight's unusual closeness bolstered him, and soon enough he was gently stroking the black fur beneath his hand.

He'd forgotten all about watching the trains and watching the humans as Mistoffelees' purr intensified and he shifted about under the touch, so that he was not leaning so much as lying on top of Skimble.

And Skimble liked it. Oh, did he ever like it, maybe a bit too much, and he had to put a stop to this before he lost control and let Mistoffelees find out how he really felt.

"Careful there, lad," he said. He made a weak attempt to nudge Mistoffelees off his chest. "Or innocent passerby might get some not-so-innocent impressions."

Mistoffelees' purring stopped. He nervously picked at one of the vest buttons with a claw and said, "And what if they do?"

Skimble laughed. It was more than a bit forced, and a bit nervous, because Mistoffelees couldn't possible be serious, could he?

"Imagine the scandalous gossip," Skimble joked. "If others thought you and I…. as if tongues don't already wag in our little junkyard!"

Mistoffelees shifted about, not moving away from where he was cuddled against Skimble's chest, just enough so he could finally look up at the older cat. He bit his lip with a timid look. "They can wag all they please. I… I don't care. I mean… I don't care if you don't care."

Skimble blinked for a few moments, wondering if Mistoffelees could feel the sudden pounding of his heart. "Misto… you're not serious, are you lad?"

There was a fleeting look of dismay on the small tom's face, as though he just realized he'd guessed wrong about his friend's intentions. Unable to bear seeing that look of heartbreak, Skimble gently ran one paw against Mistoffelees' cheek. The gesture was incongruous with his words, but seemed to comfort Mistoffelees.

"I like you, Skimble," Mistoffelees said, with a quick purr at the caressing hand. "I've liked you a while, I enjoy being with you… and I-I thought you also…"

"Misto," he sighed, elated and conflicted all at once. "You don't think… I'm a little too old for you?"

"Says who?" Mistoffelees said indignantly. "I'm not a kitten. Skimble… no one gets to make my decisions for me. I get to decide who I love."

"Wouldn't you prefer a nice tom closer to your age…?"

"I don't care for the toms closer to my age. I can't talk to them. All they want is to talk about queens and how well they can fight with each other. They don't like the things I like. They don't make me laugh. But… you do. I want to be with you."

There wasn't a thing Skimble could think of to contradict that. To tell the truth, had their positions been reversed, he would have been making the same points—he didn't care much for the stale, boring conversation and interests of the older cats. Jenny had often accused him of being a tom-kit at heart, and Skimble wore the insult with pride. But that didn't mean he had to start looking to kittens for romantic companionship.

But Mistoffelees wasn't a kitten, Skimble had to admit. He was, in fact, a lovely and handsome tom who liked to sit and have fun with him, and who was presently looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes. When Mistoffelees blinked slowly and leaned in for a kiss, Skimble recoiled slightly, instantly regretting the move.

"Don't push me away," Mistoffelees softly said. "Why are you afraid?"

"The other Jellicles…" Skimble began, knowing how feeble his protest sounded. "They won't think this looks entirely proper."

The tux nodded slowly. Still half-draped over Skimble, he idly picked at the pocket watch chain peeking from the vest pocket. "I figured they wouldn't. We'll deal with it."

"We'll… need to be careful."

"Then we'll be careful. Can I kiss you?"

Skimble's answer was a nervous chuckle, and thankfully Mistoffelees heard it for the giddy excitement it was meant to convey. When Mistoffelees leaned in again, Skimble met him halfway and they kissed for the first time.

It was a bit quick and a bit chaste, the product of Mistoffelees' inexperience. The tux still purred uncontrollably once they pulled apart. "That was so nice. I knew I liked you for a reason."

"It gets even better."

"Does it?" Mistoffelees said, flashing him a cheeky grin that made Skimble chuckle. "Then I can't wait for you to show me."

They kissed again, forgetting all about the trains coming and going, and suddenly Skimble couldn't remember why he'd felt apprehensive about this.

***

The next few weeks were bliss, pure and simple. Skimble had forgotten what it was like to be so thoroughly happy with a mate. Of course, they had to be careful, giving the appearance that their relationship was still nothing more than friendship. They still talked like good friends while in the junkyard, and still met for their late-night trips to the train station—though once there, they were free to cuddle and kiss as they pleased. And it was a fact that Mistoffelees was getting better and better at kissing.

A few times, they'd clambered down to a cubby-space behind the wooden crates, where they could kiss and roam paws over each other's bodies away from curious eyes.

He could tell that it hurt Mistoffelees, sometimes, that they couldn't touch or nuzzle each other while under the scrutinizing eyes of the junkyard. He'd tried his best to explain to his young lover that he wasn't ashamed (and he truly wasn't) but several of the older generation had some very old-fashioned ideas about what was proper. Maybe that was another reason why he'd found Jenny so exasperating at times.

Still, he and Jenny were not on bad terms, and in the interest of keeping the peace, Skimble often met her and Jellylorum for tea and conversation. More often than not, the conversation would turn to gossip between the two queens, leaving Skimble to stare at his tea and wish he'd remembered to sneak a small bottle of Scotch with him.

"… and if you ask me, she's not getting any younger!" Jenny was saying. She was crocheting an undetermined piece of something, really an excuse for something to do with her hands rather than an effort to crochet something practical. Skimble knew from experience that she would unstitch the cloth at the end of the day and start anew during the next teatime.

Jellylorum blew on her tea and nodded vigorously. Skimble made a vague sound of agreement; he hadn't even noticed who they were talking about.

"Oh dear, speaking of not getting any younger…" Jenny casually said. "I heard an interesting rumor. Our little Mistoffelees has found himself a companion."

"Is that right?" Jellylorum said, eyes big and round. "I don't dare hope he's found himself a nice young queen…?"

"If only," Jenny sniffed. "You were right about Mistoffelees'... tendencies. But that's not even the worst part!"

Skimble shifted uncomfortably, terribly interested in his teacup.

"From what I hear, he's taken up with an older tom. A much older tom."

"You don't say! How did you come to hear that?"

"Oh, I have my sources."

"How shameful," Jellylorum clucked. "And he seemed so wholesome, didn't he? Now look at him, being awfully promiscuous for such a young kitten. But that's the young generation for you. No sense of propriety at all."

"He's not a kitten," Skimble muttered. Jenny only raised a poised eyebrow at the sudden interruption. "I'm sure he's perfectly capable of making his own decisions."

"Oh, that's what they all say, don't they?" Jenny scoffed. "And look at young toms like that Rum Tum Tugger. Someone should still be making his decisions for him, if you ask me."

"And we have to worry about poor dear Misto," Jellylorum sighed. "Who knows what sort of elder tom he's taken up with? I hope it isn't some dangerous alley cat."

"Now see here," Skimble said. He set his teacup down a little more forcefully than necessary; warm tea sloshed from the rim onto his paw. "Have a little faith in the lad, will you?"

The two queens stared at him haughtily until Jenny spoke up. "I wonder, Skimble, why you're so interested in defending him."

"I-I'm not… that is to say—I think you're both being unfair," Skimble stammered. He rose to his feet, giving his vest a quick tug, hoping the agitated lash of his tail wouldn't betray his anger. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to be at the station."

"Oh, by all means," Jenny said. "Which reminds me—my friend Agatha saw something quite interesting at the train station the other day. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you Skimble dear?"

He froze in his tracks, fur twitching and bristling as he turned back to look at the gossiping queens. "Jenny…"

The yarn and crochet needle had been abandoned. "I wish you'd told me earlier that you liked tom-kits, Skimble. I wouldn't have wasted your time all these years."

"Jenny…. Everlasting… that's not how it is! Misto and I, we…"

"Oh, does it matter how it is?" Jellylorum interjected. "It isn't right and it isn't proper. Do you know what people will think? And you have to protect yourself, Skimble! What sort of a young harlot willingly takes up with older toms like that?"

"Don't talk about Misto that way!"

"I've seen the way Rum Tum Tugger's looked at him before. A pretty little tom like Mistoffelees probably jumps into the blankets of whoever's got their eye on him."

"Enough of that!" Skimble gaped. What the queens were saying wasn't true, and worst of all, he knew that the queens knew it wasn't true… they were only saying such things to rile him up, to bother him. And bloody hell, it was working.

"Do not call him a harlot ever again," Skimble growled. "And do not have this conversation around me, or around Mistoffelees, ever again, or else. Am I clear?"

Jenny blinked coolly at him. "I'm only worried about you, dear. You know I care about what happens to you."

"Don't be," Skimble said. "And don't be worried about Misto either!"

He had nothing to add that wouldn't be needlessly aggressive or laced with foul language. Without giving either queen a chance to reply, he whirled around and stomped off, out of the junkyard, and to the station. He needed the long walk to clear his mind.

_I suppose the secret's out now, _Skimble sighed.__


	2. Chapter 2

Skimble hadn't bothered joining Jenny for tea for weeks, and she and Jellylorum seemed quite content to keep their distance. Though Jenny still gave him looks here and there around the junkyard—disapproving, disappointed, but occasionally compassionate, and somehow that made Skimble feel even worse.

He wondered if she was giving Mistoffelees any such looks. It was obvious that most everyone knew about his relationship with the young tom by now—gossip spread like wildfire in the junkyard. Skimble found himself on the receiving end of more than a few strange looks and awkward conversations. From the toms such as Munkustrap and Alonzo, he received icy stares; from the queens, he received sad and pitiable looks; and from the younger generation, Mistoffelees' friends, he got confusion, as though they couldn't quite wrap their minds around what they'd supposedly heard. He hoped nobody was harassing Mistoffelees, though the young tom hadn't said anything, and in fact seemed as bright-eyed and cheerful as ever.

None of the stares and attitudes mattered, not when he had his sanctuary with Mistoffelees. They still met every few nights to cuddle by the train station, to laugh and talk about everything that had nothing to do with the junkyard. It was these little moments that made it all worth it in Skimble's mind.

They'd kept to kissing and rather chaste touching for the most part, though it was obvious Mistoffelees longed for more. He wasn't an innocent kitten, and had needs that needed fulfilling, though Skimble couldn't help hearing the disapproving voices of his former mate and her friends whenever he thought of taking things further with his young lover.

It was Mistoffelees who finally decided they'd waited long enough, crawling into his lap one evening and kissing him hard enough to silence the disapproving voices, giving Skimble a seductively cheeky look as he arched his spine and twined his tail around the other cat's legs, beckoning him to slide into the safety of their little crate cubby-space, away from prying eyes.

They kissed for a few minutes, slowly and deeply, and the way Mistoffelees insistently rubbed himself against Skimble left his intentions very clear.

"Love," Skimble said, gently nuzzling the side of Mistoffelees' face. "You're quite sure about this, now?"

The young tom's response left very little to the imagination. With one paw, he gripped the fabric of Skimble's brown vest to pull him closer; with his other paw, he took the bigger, orange one and guided it down to rest against his own very prominent erection.

Skimble shuddered slightly and rubbed his lover's member, keeping his touches light for the moment. He remembered being a young, excitable tom, and how easy it was to spend oneself under a too-strong caress.

Mistoffelees' eyes slid shut and he bit his lip, breathing hard for a few moments and encouraging the touches with little hip thrusts. After a moment he opened his eyes and whispered, "You're my first, you know. But I'm not scared."

With a small, nervous laugh, Skimble gently kissed the other cat and laid his forehead against the other's. "You're not? I am."

"Please don't be," Mistoffelees huffed, and rocked his hips to emphasize his point. "I'm ready for you—I want you."

It would have been too much to explain to him, Skimble thought, why he felt apprehensive about this, why he feared reprisals if word of this got back to Jenny through her gossipy contacts. But—as he leaned in to kiss Mistoffelees again, and felt the young tom happily smile into the kiss—he remembered that any comments or jeers were worth this. If Mistoffelees was happy, then he was happy.

"Just lie back, lad," Skimble whispered, giving the hard flesh in his paw one last stroke, earning an adorably frustrated glare in the process. He grinned, soothing the frustration by pressing his mouth to the tux's neck, replacing his lips with the gentle press of fangs as he began to work his way lower.

By the time he was done nipping over a fluffy chest and stomach, stopping to dip his rough tongue at the juncture of hip and thigh, Mistoffelees was a squirming, panting mess. While the tux wasn't a kitten, in many ways Skimble was reminded that he also wasn't the type of grown-up, experienced tom Skimble was used to courting.

Skimble had fond memories of an older tom he'd met years ago, long before Jenny. He'd been about a season older than Mistoffelees was now, and jumping aboard the Midnight Mail for one of his first trip. On board, he'd made the acquaintance of a patchy silver tom, and before long, the acquaintanceship turned to attraction.

There, in their own private space on board the Midnight Mail's luggage compartment, the patchy tom had asked the younger Skimble to lie back and pay attention as they first kissed. Soon, Skimble discovered the pleasures of having a tom take him in his mouth, and within a minute he was spent. Afterwards, the tom laid back and asked Skimble to try it out for himself.

The patchy silver tom had been his first. They mated here and there for a few weeks before he disappeared from the station, leaving Skimble momentarily lonely but pleased with everything he had learned. Despite years of being mated to Jenny, he hadn't forgotten what it was like to be with a tom, and purred with pleasure as he took Mistoffelees in his mouth and licked at him.

He took his time touching and tasting and preparing his young lover. Mistoffelees purred and arched as Skimble now played teacher, remembering his own first time with that tom.

Even as he moved inside Mistoffelees, slowly and gently, he kept his gaze fastened on the delicate white face, supporting his own weight by splaying his paws on the ground on either side of Mistoffelees' head.

It didn't take long—oh, the impetuousness of youth—before Mistoffelees came for the first time in the presence of his lover, gasping soundlessly and pulling on Skimble's arm fur. When he was finished, the tux slumped back and unfurled his arms, looking up at Skimble with a hazy, satisfied smile as the tabby continued his gentle pace and reached his own peak.

Afterwards, they curled into each other's arms as the gentle whistles of the trains came and went. Skimble tightly held his purring lover, idly wondered if any of Jenny's friends happened to be wandering in the area, intent on eyeing or overhearing a bit of juicy business, but all of a sudden, Skimble found he couldn't care less about Jenny's and Jellylorum's and anyone else's thoughts and opinions on the topic. He had Mistoffelees. This was all he needed.

***

If Jenny and the other queens somehow knew about the progression of their relationship into a more intimate one, they made no mention of it. The usual glares and glances continued in the junkyard, but Skimble was used to it. It had become part of every day life now.

As before, he kept his distance from Mistoffelees while in the junkyard, saving the kisses and touches for when they could surreptitiously sneak away to his or Mistoffelees' den, or step away and head to the train station. Their relationship was no longer a secret but it seemed prudent not to broadcast it to everyone.

Skimble had, in fact, been on his way to locate Mistoffelees, with the intent to ask him to come along on an earlier shift at the train station. He'd followed his young lover's familiar scent to a corner of the junkyard, where an old rusted truck sat on its wheel-less undercarriage, two doors missing. He wondered if Mistoffelees had curled up inside the truck for a nap, but the sudden sound of voices made it clear that Mistoffelees was not alone.

On the other side of the truck, not visible to Skimble, rose a taunting voice. "What are you trying to prove, anyway?"

"I already told you to stop following me," Mistoffelees said, agitated. "I have nothing to say to you two."

"We're asking you a question," said a third voice. "Because you're not making sense! Is he giving you something? Presents? Catnip? Why else would you want to be around him? It's so bloody weird!"

Skimble closed his eyes with a wince. Tumblebrutus and Pouncival. Both younger than Mistoffelees, but bigger than him. Stepping in would be awkward, given the power differential, but could he risk letting the heftier kittens hurt Mistoffelees? Not that the tux couldn't handle himself, but…

"What does it matter to you?" Mistoffelees huffed. "I love him and he loves me. Does it matter why?"

"You love him?" Tumblebrutus said with a disgusted gasp. "Do you… do you kiss him?"

"Ew, Misto! That's so disgusting!"

There came a frustrated groan that was clearly from Mistoffelees; it was all Skimble could do to keep himself from running around the truck and helping. It was torture enough just listening to his lover being bullied like this.

"I don't care what you two gits think!" Mistoffelees shouted. "I'm asking you again to leave me alone. Is that clear?"

"Everlasting, tell me you don't… mate with him, do you? That's sick!"

"So what? So what if we do mate? So what if we enjoy it?"

All of a sudden there came the sound of a dull smack, a brief scuffling sound, and two alarmed yelps as a flash illuminated the other side of the car. It was enough to make Skimble bolt from his hiding place, though he'd already started moving the second he heard the smack.

He glanced at the retreated backs as the two young cats high-tailed it from the area… and Mistoffelees, kneeling on the ground and clasping a white paw to his nose.

The tux looked up with watery eyes as Skimble approached. A small blossom of red began to coat the paw.

"I… I didn't hurt them," Mistoffelees said, voice muffled behind his paw. He sniffed once, and winced. "I just scared them away."

Skimble sighed, kneeling down besides the bleeding tux. "I know, love, I know. I heard it all. Let me see…"

Mistoffelees resisted at first as the older cat tried to pry his paw away, but finally relented and allowed himself to be examined. His whiskers twitched as blood dripped down onto them; after a few seconds, Skimble nodded slightly, satisfied that the injured nose at least wasn't broken.

"Might be sore for a bit," he said, allowing Mistoffelees to press his paw to his nose once more.

The tux nodded glumly. "They… they were saying some awful things about us… about you."

"It's all right, love." He pulled Mistoffelees into a hug, mindful of jarring the paw covering the injury, and laid a gentle kiss between his ears. "Has… has anything like this happened to you before? Has anyone else given you trouble?"

Mistoffelees' lengthy silence was answer enough, and suddenly Skimble went from concerned to angry. Jenny and the other cats jeering at Skimble were one thing; but for the others to be targeting Mistoffelees…

"It hasn't been bad," Mistoffelees finally said, his voice small and weak. "This is the first time anyone's ever hit me. Mostly they tease, give me looks, call me names, tell me we should consider breaking it off."

"Who does?"

"… Everyone."

"Bloody hell," Skimble muttered.

Mistoffelees sighed, cuddling harder against Skimble's chin. "I don't care. I-I'm happy with you. I don't care what anyone says for me to do."

"You should care a little lad. I don't want you to keep getting hurt like this."

"It's all right." The tux gently rubbed his nose and made a tentative sniff. "I'm sure it won't happen again."

"Quite right it won't," Skimble said sternly. He punctuated his words by tightening his hold. "Because whatever it takes, I'm going to keep you safe."

***

Munkustrap gave a weary sigh, looking down at Skimble with an air of apathy, which served only to further frustrate the other cat. "And? What exactly do you expect me to do about this?"

"Anything, Munk," Skimble pleaded. "Talk to the lads—they look up to you. Let them know they can't keep bullying Mistoffelees like this."

"If I talk to them, it will look like I'm taking sides."

Bristling, Skimble cast a pleading glance to Demeter, who stood impassively next to the tabby. If she disagreed with Munkustrap's attitude, she made no show of it.

"If you do nothing, you'll be taking sides anyway!" Skimble fumed. "Inaction always benefits the ones doing the oppressing, Munkustrap."

"Aren't you being a little over-dramatic?"

"I'm not asking you to take sides. Just to protect a young Jellicle in your charge who is being bullied and beaten. Does it matter why?"

"It does. I can't defend him if I don't agree with him."

"So you too, eh?" Skimble sighed. "And you don't call that taking sides?

"You've got the whole junkyard in an uproar," Munkustrap said. In a deliberately intimidating posture, he straightened up to look down at the older tom. "You want me to fix things? Even if I did, it wouldn't change anything. If you want to protect Misto, then end things. Admit that this wasn't a very good idea to begin with."

"Sweep everything under the rug? That will make everything better, will it?"

"It might make the others leave Mistoffelees alone of their own volition."

"That's very neat," Skimble said with a bitter laugh. "Very neat indeed. Thank you for your tender concern, lad."

It wasn't helping, Skimble thought darkly, to be making more enemies, but it wasn't as though he had very many allies left in this junkyard. Without giving Munkustrap time to argue any further, he turned his back on the so-called protector and stalked away.

***

He found Mistoffelees later at the train station, sitting on their favourite spot by the crates, holding a small bloodstained cloth. At least his nose had stopped bleeding, and didn't look too badly bruised.

"It didn't work, did it?" Mistoffelees asked softly.

"How can you tell?"

"I can always tell when you look sad."

Skimble chuckled softly, pulling the small tom into an embrace. "And I try so hard to hide it."

"You can't. That's what I like about you. You never hide your feelings." Shifting into the hug, Mistoffelees sighed and murmured, "It's getting so hard, isn't it?"

"I should have known," Skimble said. "I should have thought about what this might do to you."

"I don't care. You didn't make me do anything."

"I doubt I could make you do anything. But I need to keep you safe."

Mistoffelees nodded sadly. Skimble wondered if he could read minds too. "We'll figure this out, won't we?"

"We will."

"You're planning on leaving."

Not 'you're planning on leaving _me_ ', Skimble noticed. There was no fear in the tux's voice, no worry that their love had somehow waned, only sad resignation at a situation that left them very little choice.

"For a while. Until all of this gets better. Until they leave you alone."

"I want to come with you."

"I figured you would want that."

"But you won't let me."

"Clearly, I can't keep any of my feelings to myself."

"I still want to come with you."

"No, Misto," Skimble softly said. "At least, not yet. Not when you still have a chance to fix things with everyone at the junkyard. Your life is there."

"It doesn't have to be!"

"For now, it has to be. But no matter what happens, lad… I love you."

Mistoffelees nodded, possessively sliding his claws into Skimble's brown vest. "I love you too."

There, in the train station behind the crates, they mated one last time, and held each other for hours afterwards.

***

Once the station became crowded with passerby and stray toms and queens, they staged a loud, very public argument, and parted ways. As Skimble later learned, the gossip quickly made its way to the junkyard: the two scandalous lovers had finally seen reason, and ended their union, as evidenced by Skimble's sudden disappearance and Mistoffelees' saddened state.

They'd at least accomplished a semblance of a return to peace, and an assurance of Mistoffelees' safety in the junkyard, if only for the moment.

If only he'd known what else they accomplished that night.

When Skimble clambered back into Mistoffelees' den, seeing him again for the first time in weeks, he felt at once incredibly happy and incredibly guilty.

Guilty, because in an instant, he realized what he'd unknowingly left Mistoffelees alone to deal with.

And happy, because the sight of Mistoffelees sitting on his blankets and very obviously pregnant was the most unexpected and wonderful thing he could have imagined.

"So, how long do you have left?" Skimble asked, smiling uncontrollably as he now sat between Mistoffelees' legs, gently massaging his feet.

Mistoffelees was reclining on a thick pillow, purring softly as he ran a hand over the prominent bulge of his belly. He'd earlier insisted that he didn't need his feet massaged, and Skimble had insisted in turn that he was going to make up for missing out on so much of this unexpected, yet completely amazing pregnancy.

Skimble still couldn't believe it. A kitten; they'd made a kitten.

"Any day now, actually," Mistoffelees said. "I was sure you weren't going to come back in time—if you ever planned on coming back."

"I shouldn't have left," Skimble sighed. "Everlasting! If I'd have known, I never would have left you!"

"I know. And you were right—it did help, for a while. Everyone thought we'd split apart. In fact, everyone was very kind to me, thinking I needed all sorts of comfort, and even Jenny seemed pleased with you, saying you'd done the right thing."

"But for only for a while, I suppose?" Skimble asked.

"Well—Tugger tried to 'comfort' me after you left, and invited me to his den. I hacked up all over his floor."

Skimble snorted with laughter.

"You should have seen the look on his face," Mistoffelees smirked. "It didn't take long after that for everyone to realize I was pregnant. Everything changed then… it was just like before. Most everyone hates me now."

"Has anyone been hurting you?"

"No, no… at least there's that. But hardly anyone wants to talk to me now. It's been hard, being alone like this… but I wouldn't have changed anything. I like knowing that I'm going to have your kitten."

Skimble smiled warmly. "A little gift from your magic?"

"Maybe I didn't want you to leave," Mistoffelees said, biting his lip. "I wanted to go with you, and I don't want to stay here any more. I didn't mean to get pregnant, Skimble, not consciously, but…"

"I wouldn't blame you even if you did," Skimble said. He gently set down the limb he'd been massaging and shifted up to lay himself down next to his young lover. Hesitantly, because this still felt rather surreal, he placed a paw on the swollen stomach. "Has someone been checking on you and the kitten?"

"Jellylorum, mostly. She says the kitten is healthy and that I should be ready to give birth any day now."

"Then we shouldn't waste any time," Skimble said, sitting up. "Do you feel well enough to walk?"

"Of course!" Mistoffelees said with a small laugh. "I'm pregnant, not sick. Why, where are we going?"

Skimble rose to his feet, offering his young lover a hand up. It was the first time he'd clearly seen Mistoffelees' new figure and he smiled proudly at the sight of the small rounded belly.

"To start a new life, away from here, finally. We're going to do what we should have done weeks ago—leave, together. I know a queen who lives near the train station who will be able to help you deliver the kitten."

"Really? We won't have to come back to the junkyard? Ever again?"

"Not if you don't want to do."

Skimble huffed slightly as Mistoffelees pressed into him for a hug, squishing the pliant roundness of his belly into Skimble's stomach, and leaned down for a kiss.

***

They had no trouble finding themselves a new den, on the outskirts of London near the train station. Thankfully, they had no trouble finding an experienced queen to help deliver the kitten, since two days after leaving the junkyard, Mistoffelees woke up in the middle of the night to excitedly announce that he was having birthing pains. A few hours later, he gave birth to a tiny tortoiseshell queen they named Molly.

"She is simply lovely," Skimble sighed, protectively leaning over Mistoffelees as he cradled their daughter.

"Of course she is!" Mistoffelees beamed, amused whenever Skimble hissed or swiped at any passing humans who got too close because they wanted to pet the 'momma cat and her cute little baby'. "She has your ears."

"And your nose, I'd say."

"And your… punctuality."

"And your irrepressible sense of mischief, I'm sure."

Mistoffelees laughed and pillowed his head against Skimble's shoulder, rubbing Molly's head as she yawned and snuggled back into her parent's chest fur.

It was little surprise that Molly slept best while at the train station, with the hustle of humans and the sound of train whistles in the background, safe between her parents.


End file.
